Armadale Bay Beach
by SeraphHT
Summary: <html><head></head>Price is one of the four lifeguards on the beautiful beach of Armadale Bay. One day, a mohawk-sporting young man catches Price's attention, and then it's discovered he doesn't completely know how to swim. What does Price do? Well, he offers to help teach him, of course... (Soap/Price, AU, SLASH!)</html>
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: FrigidNorthWinds **_sent me a request to write this story out, so the credit for the creation of the plot goes to her, and this fic shall also be dedicated to her for being a lovely supporter. Enjoy!_

_P.S. Again don't flame me for mistaken preferences. No matter how much research I do, I still suck at writing about a country different from mine xD_

* * *

><p>Armadale Bay is one of the best tourist attractions in Scotland. It is a nothern beach enclosed by two rocky headlands, away from large cities and pure in its natural beauty. The location is also popular with surfers for its mostly excellent conditions, and it also enjoys some shelter from the wind due to the two main headlands on either side.<p>

The summers of Scotland were not as sultry as other countries. As a matter of fact, it brought a mild, comforting ray of heat over the brilliant beach, rather than being downright hot. The elements of nature so perfectly combined brought a lot of tourists to the exotic location. People scatter about the sandy seaside—which stretched like a light brown highway surrounded by jade waters and vast green fields—swimming, surfing, playing sports or simply relaxing underneath a sunshade.

Wind was scarce in the afternoon and early evenings. It was at these times where the beach was usually strewn with young women and men lying down underneath the weather—when viewed from a distance, they all looked like meat on a slab.

Only when the day descended to four o'clock did the wind finally blow. Blissful laughter of children fill the air, active youngsters play volleyball and football, teens and young adults stroll about hand in hand, families and devoted married couples relax underneath a sunshade, about to have a picnic…

Alas, each day comes to an end. The crowds eventually thin out, leaving behind a thousand footprints, sandcastles and drawings on the damp sand. Brought with them is the noise—and with the visitors' departures, silence reclaims the beach as the sky descends into darkness. At night, however, the wind constantly blew, and with the fresh sea air and breath-taking view, it was enough to steal anybody's heart.

Price was satisfied. Although he had ambitions of becoming a soldier, he saw that a lifeguard was a wonderful alternative to take—just like a soldier, he looks after the lives of the innocent, only without any blood, bullets and explosions.

It had been about five years since he moved to Sutherland, Scotland. The reason as to why he moved out of Hereford to reside in the said part of the world remains a mystery to him, even to this day, for it was simply something he felt he _had _to do. He has no regrets, however, especially since he gained a few meaningful friends as he pursued his passion.

He was perfectly happy sitting up on the high lifeguard post, a roof above his head and drink in his hand, watching everyone who lingered about his part of the stretching beach. The beach, because of its wide stretch, was divided into two parts—he was in responsibilty of the east part, whereas Nikolai and Yuri managed the west part.

Price spent his days observing, listening, experiencing…and occasionally he would save a drowning child or teen. Nobody has ever gone down under his watch, and he always made sure it stayed that way.

Roach was his little assistant, more-or-less. The younger man was basically just another lifeguard, only under his command. After all, since their area of the beach was rather large, there was no way Price could handle the safety of the vistors alone. Roach was a dependable man, but sometimes childish and clumsy at times, but it was always him who walked around the beach, patrolling and interacting with the people, whereas Price remained stationary on the lifeguard post.

Roach, Yuri and Nikolai always went home early. They usually leave around seven o'clock or so, whereas Price wouldn't leave for home until an hour later. Why? Because Price is in love.

When dusk falls, the sun is almost completely setting into the sea, and the golden tint of the sunset mixes in beautifully with the purplish colour that increases every second. The gentle seaside breeze brings him a gust of fresh air and the sounds of nature and birds, and to add that with the two rocky headlands enclosed around the beach…the view alone is what conquered Price's heart.

He hates watching this beautiful sight with anybody else. This scenery is his little secret—only his to keep, only his to indulge.

However, that was all about to change.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Captain?" Roach called out, looking up hopefully at Price, who was on the lifeguard post, as usual. When the older man hummed and looked down, Roach smiled. "Why can't you get down from there for once in your career and take over my job of patrolling the beach?"<p>

Price took a sip of his iced drink, raising an eyebrow. "Now, why would I want to do that?"

"Why can't I sit up there for once in my career?" Roach answered with another question, pouting slightly. "Though Nikolai's the head of the west side, he still lets Yuri sit on the post and takes over Yuri's role of patrolling. Why can't you be as considerate as Niki?"

The edge of Price's lips curled upwards. "Roach, go do another round on the beach."

Sanderson stared at him, disappointed, before groaning and grudgingly turning around. Before he can take another step, however, he turned and shouted, "Get down here and talk with the tourists, at least. Maybe you'll _finally _find a soulmate, old man."

Price glared, _this _close to pouring his lemonade over Roach's head, but calmed himself and said coldly. "I'm already in love, mate. And I'm not old. And now, go do your bloody job."

"I doubt that," Roach grinned boyishly, referring to when Price claimed he was taken by heart. He said nothing more and continued down the beach, restarting his daily routine of making the whole round of their part of the seaside.

Price grunted and returned to his original activity of observing the beach. The women have pointed out more than once that Price looked younger for his age and often flirted or tried to talk to him, but their attempts always resulted in zilch. There was honestly nobody on the beach he found attractive.

It was three in the evening. Traces of wind were lightly present. Price watched with his usual awareness as, in the small distance, a few groups of young adults and some families gingerly made their way down the paths leading to the beach…

Among them were two young men. They didn't seem a part of the trendy, rich-looking group of kids that followed up behind them—they looked a bit older and, for some reason, didn't have that rich-kid flair. The two were engaged in a conversation, laughing, dressed in sleeveless shirts and swimming trunks like everybody else.

Price's eyes locked on one of the two companions. For some reason he couldn't get his eyes off of him…

He was not as tall as Price was. Square shoulders, muscular arms that he obviously worked quite hard to get. A straight posture, and with his dark green trunk reaching his knees, Price noticed his calves. His legs were those belonging to one capable of amazing athletic feats. As a lifeguard, it was always a pleasure to see somebody in such perfect health.

A smirk threatened to show on his face as his eyes examined this stranger's facial features. It was strange, though this good-looking young man had a baby-face; he was the first person Price had ever seen who could sport a Mohawk right. Hell, the incredulous hairstyle actually _suited _him. Made him hotter, in fact.

Price caught himself at that moment. Did he just consider that stranger 'hot'? He wiped his face several times. The not-so-hot heat must be getting to him or something.

Despite uncomfortable with his own thoughts, his azure eyes still wandered back to the Mohawk-sporting man. He and his friend—who was a stunning six-feet-tall, at least, with dark hair—had already chosen a comfortable spot on the sand and was setting up a large sunshade and two fold-able chairs.

Price watched curiously as the stranger of his interest settled underneath the shade, whereas his friend headed out into the water. He just sat there, leaning back against the small chair, and within a few minutes had taken out a small book and pencil. Then he opened it, and constantly looked up from the view of the sea to his book, scribbling something on it…

Strange. Was this man an aspiring artist? That was the last thing Price expected, especially since he was in such perfect shape and health. Did he have some kind of fear of going into the sea? It was a normal thing, but rare among people of his age.

Price wasn't sure how long he spent staring at him, but it must have been about twenty minutes.

"Hey, Captain," Roach called out as he passed the lifeguard post. "I'm done with the right side of the beach. Heading for the left side, now."

Price inwardly groaned. Since the lifeguard post was in the middle of the East Beach, Price had a panaromic view of the area, so when Roach was patrolling the left side, Price would watch the right, and vice versa.

Without saying anything, Price turned away from the Mohawk-sporting man of interest and stared blankly at his right. Nikolai's guard post was visible in the distance, with an equal number of people on his side of the beach, as well.

However, there must've been some sort of disapproval on his face, because Roach, perplexed, inquired:

"Um…you don't have any qualms with me going to the left side, do you, Captain? I mean…if you want to continue staring at whomever you were staring at, I can take care of the right for the rest of the day."

"Who the bloody hell said I was staring at anybody?" Price snapped, causing Roach to flinch. Then, softer, he said, "Sorry, lad. No, it's alright. Go ahead."

In front of him, the mid-high tides of the sea were ridden by the daring and lively surfers among the tourists. Roach was, for some reason, very quick with patrolling the other side of the beach, because he reached the lifeguard post again in only ten minutes.

"I'm going to make some drinks," Roach sighed, wiping his towel over his forehead. He walked towards the small guard house behind them. "I'll be back in a few, Captain."

Price's gaze redirected again to the duo. He was still sketching, roughly dabbing his pen against the paper, before licking his thumb and sliding it across the surface. Seeing this rather impressed Price, he really had the artistic flair.

Even as Roach returned with the drinks, Price's eyes were still locked onto the two young men. He subconsciously accepted the drink Roach offered him and sipped on it, as the tall friend got out of the water, approached the Mohawk-sporting man, and began talking.

Roach desperately followed his captain's gaze, hoping to see who the hell caught his hard-to-get friend's eye, but to no avail.

Price concluded they were going to be on the beach for a while, and returned to observing the area to keep the safety in check. This drifted on for an hour, with him and Roach doing their jobs as usual; only Price would occasionally snap his head back to the left to glance at the unknown duo.

When his watch indicated half past five, the dark-haired friend patted Price's man of interest and headed back into the sea to resume surfing. And this time, Price watched intently as the stranger grinned and exited the shelter of his sunshade—but, instead of joining his friend in the waters, he walked along the beach.

The weak waves, which had lost all of their momentum as they rolled inland, stretched as far as they would go up the sand, soaking the land a shade browner than it originally was, before pulling back into the sea, bringing a good deal of sand with them.

Price watched as the stranger walked along the browner parts of the beach, the parts closer to the sea—and it was all but a flawless sight to see as he subconsciously smiled into the glittering, jade ocean, leaving a trail of footprints as he walked, which would only end up washed away by the retreating waves. He allowed the waves to soak him up to the ankles, but moved no deeper, and simply laughed when his buddy failed to complete a surf and fell into the water.

However, as the clock struck six, they began to pack up, just like the crowd. This left a sense of disappointment in Price. He was almost sure the two youngsters would have lingered around longer.

"Hey, Roach," he suddenly looked down at the younger man as they left, raising an eyebrow. "Are you taken?"

A little caught off guard with the inquiry, Roach stuttered, "W-What? You mean, i-in a relationship? Um…no, no, I'm not. Though some of the people here gave me their numbers, I'm still single."

Price nodded thoughtfully. "Has anybody caught your eye?"

"N-No," Roach answered, a bit too fast that it was suspicious. With the pink blush on his cheeks, it was blatant that Sanderson was lying. The young man obviously saw somebody today that was attractive.

Price smirked. Somehow, he had a good idea of who that person was.

* * *

><p>The following day, the two youngsters were absent, and overall those hours were uneventful. On the other hand, the third day brought a usually-seen face to the beach.<p>

Vladimir Makarov. He was a rich man who, having retired early from the multi-million world of business, constantly visited Armadale Bay. However, unlike most of the beach's loyal visitors, whose faces were always pleasant to see, the face of Makarov only meant trouble for the lifeguards.

He was one of the few bastards in the world who had no respect for the glorious natural beauty of the stunning location. His respect for the fellow visitors was zero, as well. Whenever he arrived upon the beach, it was as though it was his conquered land, as though it was a place under his command, a beach where he was in control. The lifeguards hated dealing with him.

As Makarov set foot on the sandy terrain of the beach, Price noticed him immediately and groaned. His hand flew to his ear and he spoke into his earpiece:

"Nikolai, Makarov's here."

"_That is never good news," _Nikolai replied, his voice grave. _"Hopefully you can keep him under control, yes?"_

"That's never easy," Price spat out. "The urge to strangle him always comes over me whenever I'm near the bloody bastard. Why can't we just kick him out and ban him from this place?"

Nikolai chuckled. _"You know we cannot. This beautiful place is for everybody…even bastards like him. In case he starts doing anything wrong, tell Roach to warn him."_

"Can't do that, poor Roach. You don't mind if I ask him to go over to your side of the beach? You and Yuri always seem to handle Makarov much better."

"_You know that Yuri is always upset whenever he sees Makarov. And Makarov turns twice as hazardous when he sees Yuri. To tell you the truth, the burden is solely on my shoulders when the two are close to rearranging their facial features."_

Though the radio connection was only available to Nikolai and Price, the two guardhouses behind the lifeguard posts on either side of the beach also had a small station where one could communicate with the two men through radio. Apparently, Roach was inside one of the guardhouses, and cheekily chimed in:

"_Hey, I still think it's because Makarov has a thing for Yuri, just trying to get the attention of an old friend he always harboured feelings for."_

Nikolai laughed, quite nervously. _"Yuri will drown you if he heard that, Roach. You are lucky he is patrolling, not in the guardhouses listening in on what we are saying."_

"_I'm just sayin'."_

Price said irritably. "Who said you could eavesdrop, Roach? Are you done with the routine?"

"_For this hour, at least. Besides, I don't want to handle Makarov!"_

Price's eyes darted back to Makarov. He released an exasperated sigh as the Russian threw an aluminium can onto the sand right in front of the 'No Littering' sign. Though most would see it as a light felony, Makarov was the first person in Price has seen who actually littered about the beautiful beach.

"Hmm, there's a lovely young couple sitting at his usual spot," Price said into the radio, slightly worried. "He's approaching them. Geez, I hate that bloody yank, always intimidating all the other visitors. It's a bad image for the beach."

Nikolai sighed. _"Defend the lovers, Price. Makarov does not pay for his 'usual spot' every month so it is not his private property."_

"_Damn him, always scaring away our visitors," _Roach muttered, cursing underneath his breath. _"I swear, I wonder why he decided to be a businessman instead of a terrorist. Terorrizing people seems to be his natural-born talent."_

From where Price sat, he had a clear view as Makarov drew near the couple. He was arguing with the innocent young man, whereas the woman looked terrified. Excusing himself from the radio conversation, Price removed himself from the high post and jogged over to them.

He was too late, however, for as he approached, the couple stood up and walked away; offended looks on their faces, an amused look on Makarov's.

Price glared at the Russian. "Makarov, this isn't your property. There are a thousand other spots on the sand where you can sit down and relax. Why the bloody hell do you have to frighten other visitors?"

"I'm a regular here," Makarov spat out. "And besides, the man just now was more than willing to move away. Is asking him to do so a crime?"

"Offending the tourists is a bad image for our beach," Price hissed.

"A bad image for the lifeguards, too, am I right?" Makarov raised an eyebrow, his lips ever so slightly curving upwards into a smile.

"I swear, one day, when you push things too far, I'll knock you into the next week," Price warned.

"Isn't threatening people the only thing you are good at?" Makarov was unimpressed. "Ah, how disappointing. A lifeguard who does not save lives, but endangers them. I see that only the younger one patrols, whereas you just sit up there, perched like a smug cat after a meal. Do you think that's a good way to convey to tourists that the beach is safe?"

Price gritted his teeth and clenched his hands. "Keep this up, Makarov, and see who is going to save your sorry arse when the waves swallow you whole."

With that, he turned away and returned to the guard post.

* * *

><p>Finally, on the fourth day, the man Price felt slightly attracted to, the one with the Mohawk, returned to the beach, only he came at four o'clock. Again, he was with his tall friend, and just like that day, he sat underneath the sunshade and stayed out of the water. Only this time he was eating on some home-brought food and was staring into the book instead of scribbling on it.<p>

The tall one was in the water. Price noticed that the dark-haired man was also of great health, though not as muscular as his friend, but had great elegance in every stroke and skill in the way moved about the water. He was impressed by their genuine health and shape, which was, all in all, rare among the spoilt brats of kids nowadays.

Why wasn't the one with the Mohawk showing what he was capable of? Price longed to see how he moved in the water.

At that moment, Roach passed by in front of the lifguard post, as usual. He was halfway through his hourly routine of perambulation. Price noticed the young man walked by, but he also realized that Sanderson's eyes widened after he saw a particular someone on the left side of the beach, and that he cursed softly:

"Damn! He's there again…"

"Who's there again?" Price asked, smirking.

Roach looked up, startled. He flushed and mumbled something incoherent, before (reluctantly) heading forward to complete the patrol. Not to his knowledge, his captain watched with curiosity as he made his way along the beach.

The brownish-blonde-haired man ambled, walking leisurely, but seemed to slow down once he reached the sunshade belonging to the duo of Price's interest. At that moment, the tall dark-haired one exited the water and headed away from the waves, and approached—much to Price's surprise—not his friend, but Roach.

A smirk slowly grew on Price's face as the dark-haired man halted Roach and began talking to him, flashing flirtatious winks and lopsided smiles between his words. And Roach's embarrassment increased with each pick-up line. To see this was hilarious.

And then the one who flirted with Roach approached his friend with the Mohawk. There was some talking—and the usually quiet, aspiring artist blushed at some point whereas Roach and the other one laughed. Roach was quick to make friends.

And then, Sanderson waved a hand, as though to deny something, and then he said a few words before pointing towards Price.

When Roach did this, it caught the captain off guard. And with rising alarm, he cursed softly as Roach approached the lifeguard post with the tall, dark-haired man following him, and the attractive one with the Mohawk calling after his friends, but not moving from the sunshade.

"Hey, Captain," Roach grinned, though traces of pink still lingered on his cheeks. "These people need your help, and I can't do anything for them."

"Oi, old man!" The tall one behind him suddenly shouted. Price was startled by his thick British accent, and his rudeness, of course. "This lovely chap over here told me you're sitting on your arse all day every day, so why not come down and teach the muppet of my buddy over there how to swim?"

Price remained silent, particularly because he had a hard time registering what he said. 'Lovely chap'? Alright, he was definitely trying to tackle Roach. What did he mean 'muppet of my buddy'? Was he referring to the one with the Mohawk?

Did he just say his friend couldn't swim?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_For my fans who await the sequel of _**News Worthy, **_you should know that I'm putting the project on delay until this, on the other hand, is complete! Hopefully it's a nice surprise, yes? And shall hopefully make up for the wait. __x3 Please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_I've done my fair share of research on those swimming techniques, even then I'm not entirely sure whether I've pulled it off correctly. Anyways, sorry I haven't updated in a while (if you count eleven days being 'a while'), you should know I've been busy._

_Enjoy~_

* * *

><p>"Ghost, you bloody bastard," Soap hissed as his friend jogged up to him with a wide grin. "Why can't you go a week without embarrassing me?"<p>

"Hey, for once in a while, what I'm doing is actually going to _help _you!" Ghost raised his arms, pretended to look offended. Then, he smiled cheekily and winked. "Besides, I think you'll enjoy your _private _swimming class with the head lifeguard. You have to admit it, _Soap, _that man's actually a pretty good creature to look at."

Soap glanced at the lifeguard, and widened his eyes. The man approaching them was a tad taller than he was, with lean muscles and bare, fit chest, dressed in orange trunks and a dark boonie hat on his head. A pair of determined eyes, and a well-trimmed beard along the jaw…and the way the sunlight hit his skin…and the breeze of the wind that slightly raised his hat back from his face…

Soap sometimes hated it when his friend was right.

Ghost followed his gaze and chuckled that he caught Soap staring. "Hmm…I'm going to Roach, then. _Have fun_, MacTavish."

* * *

><p>Though the smirk that threatened to show on Price's face was calmly suppressed, there was nothing he could do about the building excitement and satisfaction that was making his heart race. With each step he took, he drew nearer to the man of his interest, nearer to the man who caught his eyes at first glance.<p>

Price eventually came close enough to receive the privilege to truly examine his facial features from up close.

He had a pair of eyes similar to a pair of finely-cut sapphires. They were almond-shaped and sky blue, perfectly crafted as to give him the honest and sincere gaze that made him look confident. Price felt a bit uncomfortable to know that he would do a lot of staring into those eyes for a while…and worried that he might end up getting lost in their beauty.

His nose was unlike Ghost's whose was angled sharply. His nostrils were not too small or wide, and the bridge of his nose was perfect, making it similar to the nose of a beautiful sculpture crafted by a master. His lips were damp and looked so kissable…and the slight beard on his chin and jaw just added to his pleasant appearance.

Ah yes, Price was correct. This man was ravishing.

"Er—hi," The stranger greeted, his lips tugging upwards into an apologetic smile. Extending an arm, he said, "Look, sir, I'm really sorry. Ghost is always causing trouble—"

"As much as I hate to say it, that wank is right, I really do need to get some exercise," Price's lips slightly tugged upwards into a smirk. He accepted the hand that was offered to him, and was slightly surprised by the strong grip he met with, and how warmly he shook his hand.

"Hmm, if you ask me, I'd say you look really good," The other said, and Price raised an eyebrow, his smirk vanishing, though he was actually amused by those words. The man of interest blushed, and stuttered, "I-I meant to say that you don't have to worry so much of exercising. Er—you seem in great health."

Price remained silent, forcing his lips in a straight line though he wanted so badly to smile. It was then he noticed their hands were still connected.

"I'm MacTavish, but I'd prefer you call me Soap. Now, before you ask me 'what the hell kind of name is Soap', Roach is just as bad a callsign, if you don't mind me saying."

Price narrowed his eyes, before he chuckled and allowed his eyes to wander to their still-connected hands. "Well played, _Soap. _Call me Price, it's a pleasure to meet you. Now…are you going to let go of my hand or not?"

Soap looked down at their hands and his face flushed. Immediately he relinquished his grip on the older man's hand and looked away, out towards sea. Clouds hung high in sky, blocking out all of the heat and sun, making the atmosphere of the beach shady and cool. A fresh breeze of sea air blew at that moment, whistling in the men's ears and brushing against their skins.

"You're looking robust and well-built yourself," Price returned the compliment, hoping he wasn't too late. Soap looked a bit startled, then smiled and mumbled an incoherent 'thank you', before Price continued, folding his arms and looking at him inquiringly. "And I'm finding it hard to believe a fit man like you couldn't swim."

Soap released a nervous and self-conscious chuckle. "_Yeah_…that's true, actually. It's so bloody embarrassing, but it's true. I don't _completely _know how to swim. I'm okay with a pool, but not the sea. Those waves…"

There was a moment of silence between them. They stared out into the sea for a while, watching the mid-high waves crash down as they rolled inland, before Price found himself smiling and stifling a roar of laughter.

"Are you scared of water?"

Soap grimaced. "Aye…maybe. But I have a reason for that, and the blame's on my other friend, Gaz."

Price's amusement disappeared. "What happened?"

"Let's just say I was coerced to jump from a ship to a helicopter and nearly fell into the raging sea," he answered, shuddering. "It was five years ago, when we were young and crazy. I have nightmares of being swallowed by the water. It's terrifying."

Again, silence settled between them as Price nodded thoughtfully and absorbed the information. Soap's friends were just as wild as the youngsters who visit the beach nowadays.

"So…are you sure about having me teach you swim?" Price began, doubting the idea.

"I'm absolutely sure, as embarrassing as it is," Soap nodded confidently, smiling at the older man. "I can't go the rest of my life not knowing how to handle the waters. It sounds like a big favour, so is that okay with you, Price?"

Price's heart suddenly fluttered. What's up with Soap and his pronounciation of the letter 'r'? Goddamn, can he really do it sexy.

"I don't mind, really," Price smirked. "Let's get started, eh? Is waist-deep fine with you?"

Soap nodded and said cheekily. "Are you confident your skills haven't gotten a tad rusty after a long time without any action?"

Price hummed and raised an eyebrow at Soap, his lips curved into a small smile. "Depends on which 'skill' and what kind of 'action' you're referring to, mate."

Catching on to his dirty meaning, a blush tinted Soap's cheeks. "Didn't know you had that kind of mind, Price."

"I'm just kidding, nobody wants a boring man like me," Price finally allowed the smile to fully form on his face.

"Boring?" Soap repeated, slightly shrugging. "I've only been in your company about five minutes, and I think otherwise…"

He ducked underneath the sunshade and packed up his half-eaten sandwich into a container, discreetly putting the small black book, that Price suspected was his sketchbook, on top of it, next to the foldable chair.

Price removed his boonie hat and threw it onto the chair underneath the sunshade. There was no way he was going into the water with his beloved hat, in fear it might get lost in the waves and sea.

And then Soap reached down for the edge of his shirt and pulled it over his head, removing his top. Price was _so _not expecting this, and gawked at the now-shirtless handsome young man. His chest chiseled, his back straight, his shoulder blades outlined, his six-pack abs standing out on his abdomen—Price hoped his ogling wasn't obvious,because seeing Soap as he was at the moment was extremely gratifying.

Soap didn't notice, fortunately. He reached down for a pair of black goggles, and at that time Price looked away, uncomfortable that he caught himself staring. He proceeded into the water with Soap following behind him. Once the sea-water reached their knees, he caught up with Price and walked alongside him.

The beach was only mildly crowded. Children were frolicking in the shallow parts of the sea, or scattered about the beach building sandcastles, young women were laughing and talking underneath sunshades, a group of teenage boys were playing volleyball in the distance, families were having picnics by the sides of the beach. The sea ahead, behind those high waves which challenged the daring youngsters, was jade and shimmering, and stretched out as far as the eye could see, briefly reminding Price of the lovely scenery he was in love with.

Soap slowed down when the water reached his thighs. The steady vibrations of waves as they made their way inland rocked against him, making the water reach his waist every five seconds. "I guess here will be okay."

Price nodded. "Are you familiar with the Front Crawl?"

"Freestyle strokes?" Soap raised an eyebrow. "Can't say I'm good at it, I've always been swimming with breast strokes. Ghost said the way I do the Front Crawl is sloppy, and that was in a swimming pool. But this is the sea, Price. The waves are different, and if my Front Crawl is clumsy in the pool, I can't imagine how I'd handle it here."

"Well, get used to the sea," Price said, placing his hands on a level that they exactly touched the surface of the water. "Water is an alien environment to your skin; something you're not so used to. Accustom yourself to the feeling, how your body feels in the water. It sounds strange, but it's bloody important for the Front Crawl."

Soap bit his bottom lip, and doubtfully allowed his arms to float above the surface. He followed Price when he was told to move his hands and arms around the water, and even frowned a bit when he was instructed to crouch.

"I feel like a little boy doing this," The Scotsman muttered as he bended his knees, the water reaching his chin.

"Don't worry, you're learning," Price assured, stifling a chuckle. "And this is only first day, Soap. Surely you didn't think you'd be an expert at this in a couple of hours. We've still got a few basics to go. This is only step one."

"Bloody hell," Soap cursed, his words muffled as his mouth submerged in the water. Apparently he forgot about the waves, for a wave passed by and submerged his head completely, leading him to panic and immediately stand up straight.

He coughed, wiped his face several times, and stumbled a bit in the water when another wave hit. Price, who remained witness to his ridiculous and child-like actions, laughed slightly and shook his head.

Despite the silly reactions, Price had Soap repeat his movements and crouching in the water for about ten more minutes. Finally Price decided to move in deeper until the sand and ground underneath them nearly vanished—and it was at this point Soap panicked a bit.

"Bloody fucking hell, the waves better not pull me out to sea," Soap's voice rose, quavering.

Price laughed and calmly lifted his feet off the deep, damp sand in the sea, controlling his body to float in the water. "Relax, mate. The waves will continuosly push us inland. Besides, I'm here, and I won't let the sea swallow you whole. You have my word."

"I trust you, Price," Soap bit his lip.

He tried to steady his breathing, to relax himself and release all the pressure, and took a few moments to gather the courage to lift his feet off the ground. After a few tries, he always found himself panicking every time a wave brought him high from the sea ground and pushed him inland.

Price watched, amused, as Soap cursed and restrained from slapping himself due to his clumsiness. Finally, he approached the frustrated Scotsman, whose back was facing him, and clamped his hands on his shoulders. Soap jumped a bit—startled by the strong grip, unaware that Price had a smug smirk due to the physical contact of his hands against Soap's broad shoulders.

"Relax, mate," Price chuckled. He noted that Soap tensed underneath his hold, and continued, taking a step closer, to the point he was directly behind the younger man. "Pressure and stress just adds to the drag. Take a few deep breaths, and don't think of the waves or drifting out to sea. I'm here, and I won't let you drown, so you're safe."

Soap nodded, biting the insides of his cheeks. Price was quite close to him, and the fact he was still holding him didn't really calm him, either.

"Float in whatever way you feel comfortable. Doesn't necessary mean you have to follow exactly as how I do it, Soap. Relaxing and getting used to the waves are the objective of today."

"Right," Soap said curtly. "Relax…"

Contrary to his words, Price knew Soap was still tense, due to Soap's shoulders and arms being stiff.

An inaudible sigh escaped Price's lips. "Do I have to give you a massage to get you to relax?"

Soap's breath hitched at the words, and though it was initially just a joke, Price decided to carry out the action instead. He found himself concentrating on the younger man's back, focusing on the areas behind the shoulders and around the shoulder blades—at random intervals, Soap flinched when Price kneaded or rubbed a spot too hard.

However, even with Price's incredibly strong kneading, the sensation sent sparks of unknown feelings up Soap's spine. Before long, his shoulders dropped, his face relaxed, his breaths steadied, and his eyes closed…

"Don't get carried away," Price said, smirking as he pulled away about four steps.

Soap was slightly disappointed (since he was actually beginning to enjoy the massage) and turned to face his coach. He permitted his lips to curve upwards into a grateful smile. "Thanks. Surprisingly, that actually helped."

Price shrugged. "Ready to float?"

* * *

><p>"Hmm, class session's over?" Ghost smirked as Price and Soap approached the sunshade belonging to the younger duo. "Ah well, it's already six-thirty, mates. Nearly two hours of learning how to swim, eh, Soap? Any progress, Captain, or is the muppet completely hopeless?"<p>

Price glanced to his left, to see Roach sitting comfortably on the lifeguard post, staring in their direction with a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, a conceited grin on his face and a drink in his hand. Roach lifted his drink when he saw Price stare at him, and this caused the older man to smile and wag his head.

Soap groaned and answered Ghost's inquiry for Price. "I spent that period learning step one of a few basics, you numpty. Apparently learning the Front Crawl at sea is a whole new challenge. We're going to have to come back regularly if I'm to continue on these free classes."

"The Front Crawl? Should be a challenge since you've always done breast strokes," Ghost smirked. "Hmm, I don't mind staring at that attractive creature on that lifeguard post over there for the next few days, or weeks. Besides…not spending any money for these lessons is fine by me."

Soap sighed and shook his head, before turning to Price. "Now that I'm used to the water, and know how many seconds it takes for another wave, and all that shite, what's the next basic step?"

"Blowing bubbles," Price said, and when the younger two stared at him incredulously, he smirked. "I mean as in practising how to exhale in the water when swimming. It's quite long to explain, so come back tomorrow." At this point, he said to Ghost, "And Soap's quite a quick learner. He's not hopeless."

"Yeah, he's not hopeless when _you're _the one teaching him," Ghost grinned and winked, taking the sunshade out from the sand and returning the boonie hat to Price, who was looking at him inquiringly. Soap, on the other hand, looked slightly embarrassed and irritated at his friend. Ghost continued good-humoredly. "Oh yeah, Captain, do you want to have a peek at Soap's journal? He's—"

Soap jumped forward and cupped Ghost's mouth. "_Yeah, yeah, _shut your trap, Ghost! Let's get packing, nightfall's dropping by soon."

Ghost muttered something incoherent against Soap's palm, before gently tapping his arm as a sign of defeat. The Scot freed his friend, who gasped for air, and then chuckled and proceeded to pack up.

Soap turned to Price, and immediately his expression of exasperation vanished, replaced with a small, apologetic smile that made him look twice as attractive. This was especially because of the soft golden rays of the sun, which was setting into the sea far in the horizon, its soft rays stretching across the vast waters to beam gently on the beach, wrapping all the visitors in gentle orange and red. The shadows that were cast due to this lighting made everybody a good sight to see at this time of day.

Especially this particular Mohawk-sporting man…

Price found himself staring into the pair of cobalt eyes that were darker than his. It was so unfair for a man to look so good, or to have eyes that were so captivating.

Soap started, apologetic in tone. "Again, Price, are you sure you're completely fine with me coming back for free classes everyday? Well, not necessarily everyday, perhaps four or five times a week, but—still…"

"I'm fine with it, mate," Price assured, a bit subconsciously, hoping it wasn't blatant that he was checking Soap out.

"See, if it's fine by you, maybe I could pay by bringing over food and paying for some drinks?" Soap offered, chuckling a bit. "I mean, even if you insist not to, you can't push off that guilty feeling in my chest."

Price looked at him, amusement sparkling in his azure eyes. "That's be nice, Soap. Thanks."

"It's the least I could do," Soap laughed, sounding relieved. "So, erm—see you tomorrow."

With a nod, he waved slightly as the man retreated from him to join Ghost, who was already walking away with the items clutched underneath his arms and in his hands.

"Oh yeah, Price?" Soap called out, and the older man hummed inquiringly, looking in his direction as a reply. The Scotsman continued with a grin. "With those strong hands, you really give a grade-A massage."

Price took a few moments to register those words, but by the time he did, Soap had already receded into the distance. He chuckled, amused, and then glanced down at the palms of his hands.

And then Roach popped out of nowhere.

"_Aha! _So _Soap's _the one you were staring at three days ago!" Roach exclaimed, making Price jump.

"Bloody hell, Roach," Price sighed, wagging his head as he relaxed from the brief shock.

"Hmm…Soap looks like he likes you, too…"

"Roach, why not you go back to that lifeguard post?" Price interrupted, changing the topic. He proceeded to walk down the beach, calling out. "I'm going to patrol the beach for once."

Roach froze and stared after his captain incredulously, not entirely sure whether he heard that correctly or not.

* * *

><p>Price walked a bit further along the beach, taking his time between each step, savouring the feel of damp sand between his toes and waves up to his ankles. He felt a chilling wind blow against his skin, and he put a hand on his head to prevent the boonie hat from flying away. The sound of birds in the distance and rustling of the vast green fields were all that were audible to his ears.<p>

Finally, he looked up towards the sea. The view that he looked forward to indulging every night was near.

He stopped and sat down heavily onto the sand, legs opened and stretched, elbows resting on the slightly bended knees. As he waited for the scenery that was due in a few more moments, he removed his lighter and a cigar of Villa Clara's from his pocket.

Flipping the ligter's cover, he produced a flame and put the cigar between his lips, before moving the dancing flame to the edge of his cigar. When it lighted up, he inhaled deeply and closed the lighter, before drawing out the smoke nice and slow.

He was the only person on the beach at this late time. Roach, Nikolai and Yuri had already returned to their respective homes about thirty minutes ago, oblivious to the beauty that the beach held just before the sun fully disappeared into the sea.

Price smiled when the scenery finally came, and proceeded to adore the breath-taking view. He rejoiced the fact he was alone, and that this little secret was his, and only his…

It was then he looked down at his palms. They were rough and unpleasant to touch—to him, at least. But Soap commented that Price gave a good massage, and Price knew that for a fact since Soap seemed close to melting into his hands earlier today. Pushing the thoughts away, Price looked back up and drew in another long inhalation.

Perhaps sharing this scenery with Soap wouldn't be too bad.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Please leave a review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Thanks to everybody who reviewed! All of your comments and reviews make me smile and fill me with happiness every time I read them. They're all inspiring. You guys are awesome! __I get a feeling I rush things in my chapters. Your opinion? _

_Hopefully this one's okay and sufficently humorous. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave a comment~_

* * *

><p>"What is that?" Price asked, raising an eyebrow.<p>

Soap grinned, setting the picnic basket down next to the chair. "My payment. But that's for after the swimming session."

"Oh, my food," Price's lips threatened to tug upwards. "What did you bring?"

"That's a secret, mate," Soap teased, throwing in a wink after his sentence. However, Price kept his poker face, and was entertained by Soap's embarrassment at the lack of response. He blushed and stuttered with a small smile. "I think you'll like it, though."

"Yeah, he spent a few hours earlier this morning just picking out the right flavour for you," Ghost rolled his eyes, only earning a smack on the head from the Scot. With a laugh, he said as he moved away from the two. "Alright, maybe not a few hours, but he really was like a lass picking out a new pair of shoes."

"Bug off, Ghost," Soap warned, glaring at the dark-haired man, who simply shrugged and jogged over to Roach by the lifeguard post in the distance.

Once his friend was out of the picture, he ran his fingers through his Mohawk and asked, "Now then, blowing bubbles?"

Price nodded. "The most important skill in the Front Crawl is the ability to exhale freely into the water."

"Really?" Soap looked bewildered.

With a smirk, Price removed his hat, put it underneath the sunshade, and made his way for the waters. There was no way he would allow himself to look at Soap removing his shirt again, not that he didn't want to stare at Soap's body, it was just that he wasn't comfortable with staring.

He ventured to the waist-deep parts of the sea and waited a few minutes as Soap followed him. Finally, when the younger man had reached him, Price continued:

"People instinctively hold their breath when their face is in the water, and this just makes the stroke very difficult for them. When you are swimming using freestyle strokes, all exhalation should be in the water, so that when you turn your head to breathe, all you have to do is inhale."

Soap nodded slowly before his coach continued, "Holding your breath in your lungs just adds to stress and anxiety. This is why you should develop the habit of exhaling into the water."

"That makes sense, actually," Soap chuckled. "I never would have looked at it that way if you didn't explain that to me. Now then, how do I start?"

"Just put your face in the water and blow out through your mouth and nose," Price instructed, approaching the Scot. "Just hum slowly—feel as though you're sighing to create a steady stream of bubbles."

"I have to put my face in the water," Soap repeated, looking a bit pale. Price wasn't sure whether that was a question or a statement.

"Once you've gotten used to this, you should try crouching," The older man added. "If you become so relaxed to the point you feel yourself sinking, it's a good sign. And don't forget that I'm right next to you, just in case you need support."

"Right," Soap nodded, slowly bending forward. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before fully submerging his face into the sea, whereas Price watched carefully for the long, steady stream of bubbles that indicated his exhalation.

When it did come, Price felt a bit surprised. Soap was doing this correctly on his first try, which was quite abnormal since a lot of people struggle a few times before finally getting it right. This was usually because swimmers who are used to the breast stroke find it abnormal to have their faces in the water. Once he ran out of breath, the Scot stood back up and glanced at his coach.

"That was…correct," Price said, sounding surprised though his face was still set in a neutral expression. Soap grinned, but the older man smirked and said, "Do that about five more times and I'll believe you."

As his student proceeded to repeat the technique under his orders, Price glanced over at Nikolai's and Yuri's part of the beach. He could see Yuri in his distinctive, bright orange trunks (the colour the lifeguards had to wear) as he walked down the length of the West Beach. Looking at Yuri reminded Price of Makarov, and then he realized he hadn't seen the Russian for a few days.

Once Soap was done (and it was still impressive he pulled everything off correctly), Price told him to crouch. The younger man grew pale, obvious uncomfortable with the idea of surrendering himself completely to the waves, but was reassured when Price offered to support him.

"Stretch you arms out," Price ordered, and when Soap extended his arms in front of him, Price gingerly held his forearm, putting another hand on Soap's back. "Alright…crouch."

The physical contact obviously affected both of them. Price was fighting the thrill of holding Soap's strong arm and resisting the urge to run his hand down Soap's back and start feeling him up— and he struggled to push the thoughts out of his head. It wasn't good for the training.

Soap, on the other hand, gulped when he felt Price's warm palms against his skin. The feeling of his coach's hands on his back was a bit troubling. It made him tense, only because he started imagining what it was like to have Price all over him, but thinking that way only made it worse, and Soap breathed to calm down and drive his mind away from inappropriate thoughts.

He finally lowered his body into the water, all the while bearing in mind that he needed to accustom himself to being fully immersed in the sea. The laughter of other visitors and the crashing waves in the distance suddenly became a soft murmur underwater, and all he heard clearly was his racing heartbeat and the swishing sounds he made every time he moved his head.

Price supported Soap with the sufficent force that was just enough to not let him drift away, but not constrain him, either. The younger man was tense to be in the sea, but astounded his coach when he succeeded to remain calm, look down towards the sand and exhale—a long flow of bubbles floating up to the surface from where Soap's face was.

About ten more minutes was spent on exhalation in the water, partly because Price was suspicious of Soap's unbelievably fast learning and needed him to do it repeatedly until he was convinced Soap actually had the technique covered. Once this was done, Price nodded his head several times and remained silent for a while.

"I'm pretty good at this, aren't I?" Soap asked, a cheeky smirk crossing his features. "You look surprised. Am I learning too fast?"

"That's a good sign, actually," Price told him. He eyed the young man suspiciously. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've either been doing your own practice, or you're having sessions with another class."

Soap chuckled. "Me, attending a swimming class? Why would I? The class you're offering right here is just at the expense of food and drinks."

"Is that the only reason you prefer my services?" Price asked, his tone dry. A small disappointment settled in him at the thought.

"What? No, of course not," Soap smiled, a soft look in his eyes. "I enjoy your company, Price."

The older man was startled by his unexpected answer, but his disappointment and doubt washed away. Eventually, he permitted his lips to curve into a smirk. "Thanks. You're an interesting person, too, Soap. And, as I said earlier, a bloody fast learner. You've covered the second step just over half an hour. Unfortunately, step three's a bit longer."

"I'm always ready."

"Alright, then. To attempt the full Front Crawl without any preparation is just a recipe for disaster, so swimming coaches usually do something called 'drills'. Drills are basically just different parts of the Front Crawl broken down into separate exercises so you could focus on them individually, instead of carrying everything out at once."

At this point, Price held Soap's arms and extended them in front of him, putting one hand on top of another, all the while explaining:

"First, kicking out on your front. After you've stretched your arms out in front of you, kick down the water. Can you do this?"

Soap looked at him, slightly bewildered. "I don't really understand what you mean."

"Basically, you should float, but with your arms out in front of you, and kicking with your feet, to remain above the water."

"Oh," Soap looked down at his overlapping hands. "Erm—sounds like a challenge."

"Nothing you can't handle, I'm sure," Price flashed him a lopsided smile, his hands still holding Soap's arms over each other. "I'll be supporting you again. I doubt you'll get this done on your first time."

"Try me," Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his features.

"Don't hurt yourself," Price said playfully, though he did not relinquish his grasp around Soap's forearms. "If you move forward a bit, that's a good sign."

Soap tried, but failed numerous times, nearly tripping over his own feet and collapsing into Price's arms in the process. He was mortified with every smirk or chuckle Price made as a result from his clumsiness, and though he was unsure how long he had persisted, Soap eventually sighed and gave up.

"You know what? Let's go eat." Soap abruptly suggested, standing upright and moving inland.

Price blinked at the sudden proposal, but eventually realized Soap had indirectly declared defeat. Without making a comment, he followed the younger man inland. Once there, he retrieved his boonie hat and placed it back on his head, scratching his beard a bit as Soap settled underneath the sunshade and kept the foldable chair away.

Price stood there, waiting awkwardly, until Soap looked up with an arched brow. "What are you standing around for? An invitiation? Come sit down."

"Well, you didn't actually say anything," Price smirked, ducking underneath the sunshade and sitting down on the warm sand, underneath the comfortable shelter from the sun's rays. From underneath the sunshade, the beach was easier to view, since he didn't have to squint to protect himself from the bright light.

"You can't be standing out underneath the heat while I enjoy the shade," Soap laughed, reaching out for the picnic basket. "That would be rude of me."

For some reason, being underneath the shelter of the comfortable yellow sunshade made Price feel as though the whole outside beach was far away. It was just him and Soap, protected from the heat and enjoying the cool wind. Since the sunshade was relatively small, Price huddled rather close to the Scot—if he were to lean slightly to the left, his shoulders would already bump against Soap's.

After some quick rummaging, Soap handed to Price a small paper bag. The older man eyed it skeptically before accepting the bag and peeking in.

"…cookies?"

Soap's cheeks were slightly pink. "I—er—didn't know what to get you. I was running low on groceries, and didn't really have time to go buy some, so I couldn't make another good old sandwich or cook up something decent. Hope you like 'em, anyway..."

"So this was what Ghost was talking about earlier," Price guessed, taking a light-brown, small cookie out from the bag. Though the smell was relatively pleasant, Price felt a familiar wave of discomfort.

"I didn't actually spend hours as the wanker said I did," Soap shrugged, looking down at his sandwich that was kept in a transparent resealable packet. "It did take me a while, though, only because I didn't have the slightest clue as to which flavour was your favourite."

With Soap too distracted with removing his sandwich from the packet, Price took the opportunity to give him a warm, genuine smile. He was touched by Soap's actions, and the fact he put in the effort was strangely adorable.

However, before Price could open his mouth to take a bite, Roach bended down and peeked at the two. "Oh, what do we have here? You two taking refuge underneath this cozy little sunshade, huddled relatively close to each other, and about to tuck into a meal…quite romantic, I must admit."

Price glared at Roach. "Don't you have better things to do, Roach?"

He shifted from bending to crouching, grinning at the two. "Don't try to change the topic, Captain. What did Soap bring for you?"

"That's none of your bloody business," Price retorted. "Where's Ghost? I thought he was 'entertaining' you."

Roach blushed, chuckled and then said shamelessly. "He was, actually, but then he decided to catch another wave. Anyway, what's that in your hand? Biscuits?"

"Aye, some hand-picked cookies I bought earlier today," Soap answered as Price held the bag out, allowing Roach to take one cookie from it. They watched as he put the whole thing in his mouth, and as he hummed in approval after a few moments.

"Hmm, they're pretty good," Roach smiled, before rising to his feet. "Sorry for disturbing you two. I'll be on my way, now."

After Roach reached a reasonable distance, Price rolled his eyes and focused on the cookie in his hand. Not to his knowledge, Soap watched intently as Price put the cookie into his mouth- and the Scot's heart secretly fluttered with each detailed, crunching sound that followed each healthy bite.

Though he expected Price to smile and comment about the taste, Soap found himself blinking in confusion when his coach began to cough and wheeze—and with each second his condition worsened, until Price dropped the bag of cookies and struggled to stand.

"P-Price?" Soap held a hand out, but pulled away as the situation escalated. At this point, his blue eyes widened when he realized Price was actually choking, and, almost automatically, rushed to the rescue.

Soap stood up, forcibly pushing his sunshade aside in the process, and clamped his hands under Price's arms. The older man stumbled a bit as he was inconsiderately pulled to his feet, but the pain in his throat prevented any protest. Soap immediately wrapped his arms around Price's abdomen from behind, inhaled deeply, and pushed his palms against Price's stomach in an effort to save him.

After two powerful tries, the part of the cookie caught in Price's throat was coughed out, and as they were spat into the sand some distance away, Soap unexpectedly released him from the strong hold. The still-recovering Price stumbled forward, but quickly regained his balance, and took a few more minutes to calm himself down.

At that moment, Ghost and Roach jogged up to them, wearing shock expressions on their faces.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Ghost demanded, looking from the heavily-breathing Price to the pale-looking Scot.

"Price was choking," Soap stuttered, his voice dry. He cleared his throat and looked at the older man wearily.

"So you were helping him," Roach said, his sentence more of a statement than an answer. Soap swallowed and weakly nodded. "And…you've saved him, apparently."

Despite the confusing and serious situation, Ghost made the inappropriate decision to laugh. Annoyed by his friend's behaviour, Soap was about to snap at him, until the dark-haired man raised a hand and sputtered between his laughter:

"No—from far away it looked as though you were humping the poor lad!"

Soap's jaw dropped and his face flushed. "_What_?"

"Well—er, Ghost and I were observing you and Price for a while now, so we were shocked when you suddenly stood up and—well, you know," Roach explained, though he looked a bit embarrassed himself. "Ghost said something about 'sex on the beach' and figured that was what you two were doing, but he said there was something not right since you still had your trunks on…and there are children around."

"Could your minds get any dirtier?" Soap sighed and face-palmed in an attempt to hide his face, confident his cheeks were comparable to a tomato.

A few moments of silence ensued, and during that brief period, Price turned around and looked at Soap with a thankful, astonished and guilty expression on his face.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Price asked, scratching his beard and smiling slightly. "That was really quick, effective and—thanks."

"When your friends are nothing more but crazy, life-endangering muppets, you have to learna few basic life-saving techniques," Soap shrugged, brushing the topic off. He put a hand on Price' shoulder. "You're welcome, Price. What happened back there, though?"

"I'm peanut-butter intolerant," Price said blankly.

Though what he said was very short and concise, it took some time for the other three to fully comprehend what the captain said. When the information fully registered in their brains, however, Roach and Ghost burst into roars of laughter, whereas Soap managed to reduce his into deep chuckles.

"Of all of your weaknesses, Price," Ghost stammered between his fits of mirth. "You're _peanut butter intolerant? _Oh Soap, you poor numpty, you made a bad decision picking out those peanut butter cookies for Price!"

"I'm so sorry," Soap apologized, his smirk that of amusement mixed with guilt. Even as he chuckled a bit, his tone still pertained to a sheepish tone. "I had no idea about your issue with peanut butter. It's my fault for being so daft."

"It's alright, you didn't know," Price assured, his lips curving upwards into a smile though it contrasted the humiliation he was feeling. Perhaps it was the other three's amusement that was contagious. He glanced at the sunshade that was thrown aside. "I'm sorry about your sunshade, though."

"I can always buy another," Soap muttered as he followed his gaze. The yellow sunshade, since it was pushed aside with vehemence, laid on the sand half-opened, the wooden rim which supported the thin fabric now broken and bent.

Price turned to Roach and Ghost, who were still smiling like idiots. "Roach, be careful around Ghost. I know you two get along well, but don't get influenced by the wanker's dirty-minded ways."

"'Get along well'? You have no idea!" Ghost's foolish smile grew wider and he wrapped an arm around Roach's waist, pulling him closer, before planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Soap groaned and looked away, embarrassed, whereas Ghost's lips broke into a grin. "Don't be jealous, Soap. You'll be able to do this with Price one day."

"I second that," Roach added, his lips slightly tinted pink. "Especially since you saved him. And you know what they say in movies—if you save him, he'll fall in love with you!"

"You're bloody adorable, Bug."

Soap stared at them incredulously. "Are you two drunk or something?"

"Perhaps they're intoxicated from the excessive dose of laughter," Price shrugged. He decided to ignore the younger two and glanced down at the sand, noticing the cookies spilled out of the bag, and how the sandwich was nearby, the white bread now covered with beige dust.

"Soap, follow me," Price ordered, walking in direction of the guardhouse and vacant lifeguard post. The Scot complied without any protest, and once they reached there, Price led him into the small guardhouse.

Inside was a small fridge, some countertops and cabinets, a small round table with only one chair, and a sofa. Soap took a seat at the couch and watched as Price began to prepare two glasses of orange juice.

"Oh, you didn't have to do this," Soap frowned slightly, reluctantly accepting the elegant glass of orange juice that Price offered.

"Even if you insist, I still feel guilty," Price shrugged, settling down next to the Scot. He took a sip of the iced drink and closed his eyes, the cool liquid in his mouth offering relief from the hot, sunny day. "These drinks were the least I could do."

Silence fell between them, but it didn't last long before Soap managed to divert their conversation to a fresh topic. "Besides kicking out on my front, are there other drills I'm supposed to work on?"

"There are two more," Price explained, "The second one is to be practised on land, focusing on your arm recovery technique. The third one is back in the water, focusing on kicking on your side. Both are pretty complex and require some lengthy explanation, support and time. Why so curious? Don't rush, mate. You'll complete this exercise soon."

Once he finished his clarification, Price's azure eyes glanced up at the wall clock. It was a quarter to six. Taking another sip of his drink, he contemplated whether or not it was appropriate to ask Soap to stay long enough for the scenery.

It was then the idea struck him. "Once you've mastered the Front Crawl, I'll give you a present. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good to me," Soap shrugged. "I'm curious to see what it'll be, though. Will it be amazing?"

Price remained silent, imagining him and Soap alone on the beach, adoring the magnificent display of nature's true beauty. Wrapped in soft oranges and fond yellows, surrounded by the astounding terrain, lost in each other's eyes…

"It'll be breath-taking," he promised, taking another sip of his orange juice.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a sunny day. Ghost was sitting on the sand, allowing the heat to soak into his light skin, his legs spread out in front of him, and a drink in his hand. Roach was right next to him, lying on his side and watching the children run across the beach with a bored expression. A few moments later, Soap jogged up to them, his hair still dripping as he just returned from the sea.

It has been five days since the incident of Soap saving Price from choking.

"Now that I think about it, how many days have you been training with Price?" Ghost asked and arched a brow, his lips gingerly making contact with the tin. He tilted the can upwards and took a few gulps of the carbonated drink, all the while looking at Soap inquiringly. Roach's heart fluttered at the sound of Ghost swallowing the liquid and how his throat moved as he did so.

Soap bended down and picked up a bottle of mineral water. Twisting the cap, he thought for a few seconds before answering, "It's been about a week, already."

"A week, eh? And you still haven't mastered the Front Crawl?" Ghost smirked. "Abnormal for you, mate. You were always such a fast learner."

After draining the bottle down to half, Soap shrugged. "Hey, swimming's harder than I expected."

"Yeah, it's harder because your bloody attractive coach is constantly distracting you," Ghost waggled his eyebrows, eliciting a chuckle from Roach.

"Maybe," Soap conceded, his lips threatening to curl upwards into a smug smile.

"Oh? Do I hear a confession?" Ghost laughed, somewhat startled but amused at the same time. Soap glared, and, finishing off his drink, Ghost said, "Sit down, MacTavish. Let's recap this Step Three of the Front Crawl that's so difficult for you."

Soap glanced over his shoulder, hesitant to do so, to see Price knee-deep in the sea, warning a few children who wandered too far into the water. The older man looked so handsome just standing there, the sunlight beaming down on him and casting shadows over his well-built body in all the right places. And that glimmering sea which surrounded him just added to the view.

He decided that a few minutes of his absence would make no difference whatsoever to the captain. Reluctantly, he settled himself heavily next to Ghost, who threw his arm around Soap's neck in a friendly gesture.

"First, kicking out on your front," Ghost began. "On the second day of you practising that one, you fell into Price's arms a good number of times, many of them on purpose, if you ask me."

"I did not—" Soap started to protest, but was stopped short when Roach chimed in.

"_Please, _you had this smug smile and pink blush on your face every time Price caught you," Sanderson grinned cheekily. "And I could tell what you were thinking just by looking at your face. I know the captain has strong forearms, but did you really have to feel them up just to be sure?"

"F-Feel them up?" Soap flushed. He defended, "I wasn't, you numpty. It's an automatic reaction to hold the arms of a person who catches you."

"Says the chap who _slid _his hands down Captain Price's arms," Roach raised an eyebrow. Soap fell silent, and his indirect sign of defeat caused Ghost to roar out in laughter. "After you and Ghost went home, Price was just tracing his hands along where you touched them, you know. He shuddered and smiled a lot."

"Really?" Soap's cheeks absorbed into a deeper shade.

"Part B of Step Three was practising arm recovery on land," Ghost continued their conversation. "Price told you to lie on your side, lower arm out in front of you, said you had to move your top arm and place it into the 'water' in front of you. Keep your forearm and elbow completely relaxed, repeat the action, all that shite."

"As you were busy doing all that, Price had a good view of your arse," Roach winked. "Couldn't stop staring at it, too, I had to nudge him to get his attention. Do you fancy your arse really nice, Soap? Price would like a graphic description of it."

Ghost chuckled. "No, no, why would he want a _description _of it? Better pull your trunks down and let Price see it for himself, eh, Soap? Maybe do something more than just staring?"

"You two…" Soap sighed, his hand on his face. He could feel the burn on his cheeks as dirty images began to flood his mind. _'Seriously, though, I had no fucking idea he was staring at my arse the whole time I was practising…'_

"Part C of Step Three was kicking out on your side," Ghost said, recalling the event which took place only yesterday. "Back in the water, with one arm stretched out ahead of you, kick out on your side. That one was pretty easily done, though. Nothing much to say there."

"You've basically mastered all of them," Roach concluded, before frowning at Soap. "What's wrong? Is it really that difficult to put everything together?"

Soap fell silent. Of course it wasn't difficult. He knew he could easily swim freestyle by combining everything he's learned. For some reason, however, he found himself failing and constantly losing focus every time he tried. He didn't know why. Perhaps it was the especially hot day that wasn't really a good mix with being in the water. Or it was because he hasn't eaten lunch yet. Or maybe it was that he was afraid completing the exercise meant the end of his excuse to be with Price.

Yeah, that was possible. Soap was afraid. Mastering the Front Crawl meant his free swimming class with Price would be over, and that he had no excuse to come to Armadale Bay Beach and talk to Price. It would be awkward to tell the captain that he came just to see him, though that really was his intention. He didn't know what Price's feelings were towards him. Perhaps his body was purposely failing to comply just to prolong the minutes he spent next to Price's side.

"Hey, why not you show your journal to him?" Ghost suggested with a grin, picking up the rectangular parcel between him and Roach. He fanned through the pages. "Sure, it's almost completely filled with shite notes and scribbles, but you're a bloody artist, mate!"

Soap smiled self-consciously. "It's just a hobby, Ghost, and you know it."

Ghost stopped at one page. It was the clean, shaded sketch of the sea which Soap drew on his first two days at Armadale Bay. It presented a view of the beach from a left, low-set angle, as though one was sitting just as how Soap sat underneath the sunshade on his foldable chair, one side of the enclosing headlands included in the drawing. There were no people in the sketch, and a high wave rose up in Soap's version of the sea.

"I'd be lying if I said this isn't breath-taking," Roach commented, tracing his finger along the smooth ripples in the water that Soap expertly shaded. "Any more drawings?"

Ghost flipped to the next page before Soap could stop him. He and Roach stared at the drawing for a while, taking a few seconds to register the subject.

It was Price, sitting up on the high lifeguard post. His boonie hat on his head, a glass in his hand, leaned back against the chair, his expression that of the usual caution and expertise Price always had whenever he was surveying the area—complete with a detailed sketch of the small roof over his head which provided the captain shelter from the sun.

"Ooh, Captain on the lifeguard post," Roach sat up straight and took the book into his own hands. "Strange, the captain hasn't been sitting on that chair ever since you two came along. There's no way you were able to sketch him. Did you just _imagine _him on the post, Soap?"

Soap bit his bottom lip. No, he didn't just think up of the image and draw it up. He saw Price on the lifeguard post. He created that drawing even before they became acquainted.

There was no way he was going to admit that he noticed Price the minute he and Ghost arrived on the beach. The older man was perched up there, he noticed, looking perfect and irresistable even from a distance. He could tell Price was looking at him, too, so he kept his gaze away. He remembered, relaxing underneath the sunshade on that fateful first day, taking out his journal, and after completing a rough sketch of the sea, he furtively glanced at the head lifeguard. How responsible he looked scanning the area with careful eyes. He couldn't stop himself from quickly drawing Price down in his journal.

Roach moved on to the next page when he received no answer, and whistled when he found the next drawing to be another of Price.

"Oh, the old man's in the water this time," Ghost remarked, his lips curving upwards into an amused smirk. "Bug, look at that feature on his arms and abs. Carefully cleaned, specifically shaded. Seriously, Soap, were you focusing on his instructions, or the details on his body?"

Soap blushed and swooped in between them, successfully grabbing the journal from their hands. Defensively, he pinned the book underneath his left arm and stood up.

"Alright, I'm going back to training," Soap told them, his eye twitching with slight irritation. Without waiting for a response, he turned around and began walking along the beach to reach his coach, who was out of the water and waiting patiently by the edge of the waves. Soap felt nervous, for his journal was still cradled in his hands.

As he drew near, Price raised an eyebrow. "Have something to show me?"

Soap chuckled nervously, looking down at his journal. "Er—something like that. Ghost told me I should show you a sketch of mine. One I made of the sea on my first day coming here."

"I always figured you were an aspiring artist," Price smirked, taking a step closer to Soap to easily look into the book. His shoulder touched Soap's and sent a shiver up the younger man's spine. "So, where's the drawing?"

The weak waves rolled up the sand, touching their toes, before pulling back into the sea again. As the feeling of sand lessened and tickled underneath his feet, Soap went through the book, flipping through the multiple lists and meaningless scribbles which came before.

"I don't know what you'll think of it, though," Soap muttered. He reached the page and stopped, holding it more to Price's side so his captain could see.

Price stared at the drawing of the sea with appreciative eyes. He admired every careful detail included in the well-drawn sketch. Soap was a sharp observer.

Before he could say anything, somebody bumped into Soap, causing the younger man to stumble forward, and knocking the journal out of his hands. The book fell into the damp sand below, the weak and shallow waves soaking up the leather cover.

"Shite!" Soap cursed, eyes widening as he dropped to his knees to recover his journal.

"_Sorry. _Perhaps you should have gone swimming than distract the lifeguard from doing his job."

The familiar Russian tone sent an immesurable amount of anger surging through Price, and his stern azure eyes glared Makarov down. Makarov didn't falter underneath the threatening glower, instead stared at Soap with a disinterested expression. The way he looked at Soap was made Price seeth and clench his hands.

Makarov smirked when he saw Price's rage, and walked away before the captain could say or do anything else.

Price watched Makarov increase their distance, before turning back to Soap. He kneeled down, staring sympathetically at the younger man, who was obviously upset by what took place.

The older man carefully lifted the journal, the soaked leather cover making it slightly heavier, the damp sand sticking to most parts of the book. Soap sighed quietly, just loud enough for Price to hear.

"At least it's not completely wet," Price said, flipping through the pages. Only the cover was affected by the waves. All of the pages and content were dry.

"Yeah, you're right," Soap smiled weakly, rising to his feet. "I could dry it out at home with a hair-dryer or fan. Who was that bloody bastard?"

"Vladimir Makarov, nasty wanker," Price muttered, gritting his teeth. "I feel like strangling that bastard every time I see his face. He's basically a terrorist on the beach."

The rage was slowly builing up within him. Everything had gone so well since the last time he showed up. Now he arrived at the exact time Price was busy and having a class with Soap. The thought of having to watch after Makarov in the middle of their session was infuriating.

However, his anger stopped short when he reached a particular drawing in the journal.

Noticing Price's strange silence, Soap glanced down at the book to see what he was staring at. To his horror, on the page was the drawing he made of Price—the one which had him on the lifeguard post. The drawing that he was particularly proud of.

"That's me, isn't it?" Price asked, not looking up at Soap, instead dragging a finger along the page.

Soap gulped. "Y-Yeah. I—er—like how responsible you looked."

"So you were observing me every time I looked away," Price surmised, a handsome smirk breaking out on his face, causing a pink blush to burn Soap's cheeks.

The younger man didn't reply. He swiftly snatched the book away, almost similar to what he did with Roach, and held the book close. Soap laughed nervously when Price stood up, still looking at him with that irresistable smirk. And that glint in his blue eyes. Could Price stop staring at him so seductively?

"That's enough peeking for now," Soap stammered, his lips parted into a shy grin. "I'll get this back to Ghost…and, uh, get back to working on the Front Crawl."

"You should," Price nodded, his smirk slightly decreasing. "It's very simple. Just combine everything you've learned together into one swim, and you've mastered it. I'm actually surprised you haven't completed that yet."

"Heh, I guess I'm still scared of the water," Soap lied. He turned around and walked back over to Ghost and Roach. Apparently the two were watching him all this time, for they were grinning like fools.

"Let me guess," Ghost started as Soap drew near, "Price saw the drawing you made of him, right?"

Soap grunted and tossed the journal towards him. "Shut up, numpty. Here, take the book and knock yourselves out."

"Oh yeah, Bug told me about that wanker Makarov," Ghost said, frowning when he discovered the cover of his friend's treasured book was damp and partially sticking wth sand.

"Yeah, he introduced himself quite charmingly," Soap spat out sarcastically.

"Makarov's never really gone swimming before," Roach informed them. "Well, not really into the _deep _areas, of course. Never ventured more than knee-length. I get a feeling it's cause he couldn't handle himself in the water, especially since the sea gets stronger and rougher at chest height."

"I once travelled that far," Ghost grinned. "The sea's pull is really strong at that point. Nearly swallowed me whole on the first day coming here."

"You're lucky the sea didn't," Roach smiled, giving Ghost a quick peck on the cheek. "If not, you never would have met me."

Ghost wrapped an arm around Roach's waist. "You're bloody right, Lovebug."

Soap smirked at their affection. It was true, that he was slightly jealous of their relationship.

Suddenly, Roach snapped his fingers. "Oh yeah! I have to go to Nikolai now, to run an errand. I'll be right back."

He stood up and jogged away from them. Soap and Ghost watched as he receded into the distance, making his way to the part of the beach handled by Yuri and Nikolai.

Suddenly, amid the silence, Ghost snapped at Soap. "Now then, enough pretending. I've been your best mate for years, Soap, I know that you're afraid of finishing this class. It's because you're scared you won't be able to spend any more time with Price, right?"

Soap was startled by Ghost's outburst, but smiled appreciatingly. "That's right."

"You bloody muppet, there's nothing to be afraid of," Ghost's stern expression softened. "Besides, what makes you think that mastering the Front Crawl is going to end your relationship?"

Soap shrugged. "I won't have a reason to be around him anymore. It'll be _awkward _if I came back to the beach and saw him again. All I can do is smile and wave. He'll be back up in that post and I'll look like a numpty if I try to approach and talk to him. _He_ has no reason to approach _me_, either."

"The grumpy old lad likes you back!" Ghost rolled his eyes. "You're so full of doubt, MacTavish."

"Haste is your worse enemy, as they say," Soap laughed and walked away. "I like to take things slow, Riley."

"Take things _too _slowly and you might just lose him," Ghost sighed.

"Heh, that's the first time I've heard you give me some advice that actually makes sense," Soap chuckled, hastening his pace into a jog. His friend didn't reply and he approached Price shortly.

The older man was talking into the earpiece. Just as Soap arrived, Price looked at him apologetically. "I have to handle something at the beach. Apparently an angry visitor is going all-out on Yuri for something Makarov said. Nikolai and Roach couldn't handle it, I'll have to step in. Keep an eye out for that Russian wanker."

Price jogged over to the other side, leaving Soap standing there at a loss of what to do. He swept his glance over the many people in the sea, at the small crowd in the distance due to the said argument, and to one particular man moving deeper into the water.

'_It's Makarov,' _Soap thought to himself, bewildered by how the Russian was suddenly in the sea on the East part of the beach, since the fight seemed to be triggered only minutes earlier. Makarov was staring off into the sea, slowly moving forward. Remembering Roach's earlier remark, he watched with amusement. _'What're you doing now? Aren't you afraid of the water?'_

Makarov moved in until the water reached his chest. At that point, Soap redirected his gaze back to the commotion going on in the distance. The crowd seemed to be thinning out. Perhaps the problem was already sorted out.

He mulled over Ghost's words. It was true, what he said—perhaps he was being doubtful and unsure for no reason. But, that was Soap…unless if there was any concrete sign that Price was romantically interested, he wasn't going to make a move.

A loud scream stopped his train of thought. "Oh my god, somebody's drowning!" a girl shouted.

Soap unfolded his arms and looked off wearily into the sea, his eyes desperately searching for the said victim. He finally saw it—quite a distance away from the shore, the point where the sand surely vanished from one's feet—somebody's arms were flailing in the water, the waves temporarily swallowing the said person every few seconds.

There was no lifeguard present on the eastern part of the beach. Both Price _and _Roach were handling the serious argument. There was no way either of them could be notified, run over to the eastern beach and save the drowning person in time. His mind was jumbled with million of thoughts. His heart was pounding against his ribs.

Seeing no other option, Soap ran towards the sea. He sprinted forward like a trained athlete, picking up speed with each step he took, the water splashing as his feet briefly made contact before taking off again. He ran until the water was high enough to slow him down, and then dived into the sea.

Ghost was watching the entire ordeal. He stood there, speechless and stupefied, when Soap decided to take action. He was even more surprised when Soap sunk into the water and began to _swim—_elegant, trained strokes, moving with unexpected speed against the tides—Soap was doing the Front Crawl.

He didn't have a moment to permit a smirk across his face, for the suspense of watching Soap in action occupied his mind completely. With ease, Soap reached this drowning person, wrapped the person's arms around his shoulders, and began swimming back towards shore. Ghost was amused that Soap didn't panic, knowing the sand had disappeared underneath his feet.

Finally, he reached the land and dragged the rescued victim onto the sand and out of the water.

"That was unbelievable!" Ghost suddenly cheered, his voice loud from the burst of excitement, throwing a fist in the air.

Soap was panting, slightly jumpy from the rush of adrenaline surging through him, and smiled at Ghost's ethusiasm. As he stood there with hands on his hips, catching his breath, Price and Roach were yelling at him from the distance, approaching him with worried expressions.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Roach demanded.

He looked from Soap to the man he just saved. Price wasn't sure whether to be happy or frustrated that the lucky man was Makarov. The Russian was lying on the sand, coughing out terribly, looking a bit pale from the incident which nearly cost him his life.

"You saved this wanker from drowning," Price repeated, more of a statement than a question. His eyes met Soap's in a moment of silence.

"And he was swimming the Front Crawl!" Ghost exclaimed as he drew near. He threw his arm around Soap's shoulders and rustled his hair, giving him a wide grin. "It was the most incredible thing I've ever seen you do, mate! Too bad the one drowning was Makarov, eh?"

"Yeah, quite unfortunate," Roach snickered. "Still awesome either way!"

Instead of being grateful, Makarov had an indignant look on his face, red with anger. He cursed in Russian, probably mortified he nearly drowned and was saved by one of the people he considered lowly, but was cut off from Soap when Ghost came in front of him.

"No, you bastard, no need to start throwing punches at the man who saved your life," Ghost snapped, an irritated smirk on his face. "Let Lovebug and I show you the way to the exit."

As he and Roach ushered the humiliated Russian away, Ghost glanced over his sholder and smirked at Soap.

Once they reached a safe distance, Soap turned back to Price, a shy expression on his face. He coughed and scratched his neck, avoiding eye contact as he murmured, "So…uh…you saw that?"

"Yes, I did," Price's firm and confident voice held traces of amusement.

"Okay, what're you going to tell me now?" Soap felt like biting his lip. "I've mastered swimming freestyle, class is over and I don't have to train with you anymore?"

"That's correct," Price nodded, the words hitting Soap like a bombshell. This was it—the end of his relationship with the captain.

Soap must have showed some sign of disappointment, for Price raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "Have you forgotten already?" he asked, a warm smile playing on his face. "I have a reward for you, remember?"

"O-Oh yeah. What is it?"

"You'll have to wait until dusk," Price smirked.

For some reason, Soap's spirits were slightly lifted. He had to wait for dusk, which was about two hours away. Two more hours to spend with Price until their teacher/student relationship ended. Just a bit more time left to spare.

Time. That was all he needed for now.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Please review~_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_I seem to have a habit of ending things at five chapters .-. _

_I know I've said this a trillion times on almost all of my stories, but I can't help it! I hate how I keep feeling my endings suck xD_

_Anyway, here it is, the ending of the AU Soap/Price story, Armadale Bay Beach. Thanks to everybody who supported, reviewed and read this far! You guys give me purpose xD_

* * *

><p>Price and Soap were engaged in a conversation when Roach and Ghost joined them.<p>

"I don't think we'll be seeing that bastard for a while," Roach grinned. "He was so pissed he couldn't even talk."

"That's good," Price smirked. "At least I won't see his ugly face on this beautiful beach ever again."

"So, what were you two talking about?" Ghost asked, his lips threatening to crack a smile.

"Price told me he had a present waiting after I've completed his classes," Soap explained, a small grin on his face and he turned to look at Price. "Told me I had to wait until dusk. For the past five minutes, I've been bugging him to give me a hint as to what my present is."

"Wait until dusk?" Roach repeated, a cheeky smile breaking out on his face. "The beach would be empty by then, you know. Nikolai, Yuri and I would also be going home."

"Is that so?" Soap raised his eyebrows, surprised.

"Oh, I get it," Ghost chuckled. "The old man wants to have a little privacy with Soap on this breath-taking beach. Warm nights by the sea, long walks on the sand—all those romantic clichés, ain't that right, Price?"

Soap wanted to facepalm as Roach began to laugh. Price, on the other hand, grunted and glared at Ghost.

"Don't worry, captain," Roach smiled when he noticed Price's menacing glower. "We'll be sure to keep off the beach. Don't want to be walking in on you two and interrupt."

Ghost snickered, nuged Roach and waggled his eyebrows. "What is it that we might 'walk in on and interrupt'?"

The two burst out in laughter.

"I regret telling them," Soap mumbled, apologetic in tone, though his cheeks were slightly pink and he looked irritated at his two friends.

At that moment, a girl of about eighteen jogged up to them. "Excuse me?" she said, causing Roach and Ghost to cease laughter. Then, she asked politely. "Which one of you is the head lifeguard?"

"I am," Price spoke up. "What seems to be the problem, miss?"

"There's no problem, really, just wanting to ask you something," she started, smiling sheepishly. "I've realized that the crowds thin out at six, the lifeguards go back home at seven and the beach is completely empty at night. My friend is getting married, you see, and I was thinking of throwing a party to celebrate the engagement."

Price nodded slowly, and she continued, "I've decided to throw the party on this beach. Tonight. There shouldn't be a problem, right, since this is public property? I was just wondering, though, if you lifeguards would be willing to stay back and look after us throughout the gathering. I'd like it if there was some protection, just in case any of my friends go crazy and dive into the sea, especially since I heard it's quite rough at night."

The four men fell silent for a while, and then she added hastily. "I-I'll pay you."

Price wasn't sure of what to say. This was the first time in his career that anybody approached him about visiting Armadale Bay Beach _at night. _And of all nights, it just had to be _that night. _The one night he thought the beach would finally belong to him and Soap only, the one time he'll be able to share the majestic view of the beach—his secret—with the man who stole his heart.

Not only does the party issue ruin the chance for him to be alone with Soap, it also put the scenery secret at risk. If he and Roach were to stay back to look after the guests of the party, everybody is bound to see the majestic view and there would be no doubt that word would spread fast concerning it. Then there would be more visitors to the beach at night…and gone would be Price's precious moment of solitude with nature's beauty.

Roach knew exactly what was going on in Price's head. _'Shit, talk about bad timing,' _he thought to himself, supressing a snicker. _'Poor captain can't deny the fact the beach is public property…'_

"Erm—can't the party wait until tomorrow night?" Price's usual smooth voice held traces of irritation.

"Well…no, it can't," The girl frowned. "If you're busy, sir, you don't have to—"

"No, no, it's alright," Price waved a hand. "Sanderson and I will be on duty tonight, as long as you pay us for it."

"Oh, thank you, sir," she said earnestly, before walking away.

Once she reached a safe distance, Ghost blew out a long whistle. "Wow, that's real horrible timing, lads. Too bad your alone time with Soap isn't going to be private anymore, Price."

"Since when did I say we needed to be alone for me to give the present to him?" Price countered, raising an eyebrow.

Ghost couldn't think of a witty retort immediately, and Price took the advantage of his brief silence to walk away. He murmured, "I'll be up on the lifeguard post."

As Price reached out of ear-shot, Soap smirked at his friends. "It's true, though, what the old man said. Just because we're not alone doesn't mean he couldn't give me my reward."

"Well, since he said you had to wait until dusk, our initial thought was that he _wanted_ to be alone with you," Roach shrugged.

"Besides, what kind of present needs to wait until dusk?" Ghost raised an eyebrow. "The only logical reason I can think of is that he wants the day to be dark and quiet when he gives Soap the reward. And if dark and quiet are the contributing factors, there's only one kind of 'gift' that Price has for Soap…"

Soap blushed, whereas Roach turned pale. "Ew! That's gross, Simon. Why did you have to put that image in my head?"

"What?" Ghost raised his arms, a smile playing on his face. "I'm not doing it on purpose! I'm just presenting the facts and coming up with a few _logical _hypotheses!"

"Whatever the gift is, we'll be there to see it," Roach said, after a few shudders to get the pictures out of his mind. He glanced at Soap with a lopsided smile. "Are you disappointed about the no-privacy thing?"

"Kind of," Soap conceded.

He was rather excited to know that the beach was empty by dusk and that it would only be him and Price, so there was no use hiding he was a bit bummed out by the abrupt interruption. Still, that was one of the worst bad-timing moments of his life.

"What do _you _think the present will be?" Ghost asked him, curious.

Soap remained silent for a while. He couldn't think of any possible answer at the moment. Finally, he shrugged and sighed, "I don't know. I'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

><p>By the time it was half past six, the beach was already clear of visitors. It was about seven o'clock when a small group of people emerged, about half of them carrying what looked like stereos and long sticks.<p>

Price was smoking on a cigar, subconsciously watching the young group of people. It felt rather strange to be back up on the high lifeguard post again, after all those days training Soap in the water. He felt rather daft to finally realize it was a little lonely sitting up there, without hearing Roach's cheeky remarks, Ghost's dirty jokes or Soap's dreamy voice. He was beginning to feel keeping off the high post was better than sitting on it.

He diverted his attention to the sky. Ten more minutes, and the scenery should be ready. At the time, the orange sun was just descending, not yet reaching the sea in the distance.

"Oh wow, are those tikis?"

Price glanced down at Soap. After exchanging smiles, they both watched as the youngsters stuck the tikis into the sand, stretching it across the East Beach, before litting them. The fire which burned in harmony with the sunset created an aromatic atmosphere on the beach, somehow encouraging a romantic vibe, not to mention the tikis were actually very beautiful.

Roach and Ghost were talking with each other some distance away, closer to the group on the beach. They weren't paying any attention to him and Soap, neither were the group of young people nearby. They were too focused on drinking, talking and sitting around a bonfire.

Just as he finished his cigar, a strong wind blew and nearly tipped his boonie hat off his head. The fire on the tiki wavered underneath the breeze, but did not go out, creating a wonderful effect of dancing flames. Blowing out a final puff of smoke, Price threw the cigar into the sand and climbed down from the lifeguard post.

"Alright, follow me," Price told Soap, who simply complied as the older man walked a bit further from the others, just until they were out of ear-shot.

Warm sand. Distant chirps of birds. Trees rustling to the wind. Fresh sea breeze. The sound of waves crashing against rocks and rolling up the beach. Price couldn't ask for a better setting, well, excluding the 'just-him-and-Soap' part.

He decided not to sit down. Instead, he stopped, released a small sigh and stared off into the sea without saying anything. The more he thought about this, the more nervous and insecure he felt. What if Soap wasn't interested in him at all? What if he was the only one who felt this way? Would he just scare Soap off?

Soap halted right next to him, slightly confused as to the sudden cease of walk, and redirected his gaze to where Price was looking. At the time, he didn't really think much of what was going to happen, so he asked:

"Price?"

'_Any time now,' _Price thought to himself.

He turned to meet with Soap's gentle gaze, but also noted a glint of sadness in those sky-blue eyes. Price took in a deep breath and broke off their eye contact, saying, "Look, Soap…this is something that's been my secret for a long time now. I always spend a lot of time here, after everybody's gone home, just because of this one present I'm about to show you."

Soap followed Price's gaze again, but what he saw this time took his breath away.

Price chuckled a bit, glancing to his side to see Soap's facial expression. He looked completely bewitched and amazed by the exotic view. It was actually rather adorable to see him so caught off-guard.

"You're the only person I've ever shared this view with," Price admitted. "Well, that _would _have happened, if only the others weren't here. I really was planning to keep this breath-taking sight a secret between you and me."

"Price…" Soap murmured, still a bit mesmerized.

"For so long, this view was the only thing that made me feel whole," Price shook his head slightly, not realizing that Soap was now looking at him. Price's lips were tugged upwards into a handsome smirk. "That was until I met you, of course. You make me feel exactly as how this view does—happy, peaceful…not a worry in the world."

Soap's heart leaped to his mouth as a blush spread across his cheeks. He waited a few moments, just to be sure he wasn't dreaming, before he coughed and laughed nervously.

"Wow…" he said, not able to stop the wide, bashful smile spreading across his face. He met with Price's eyes with a flattered expression. "I really don't know what to say. This is bloody romantic, Price. I…I never thought you'd…like me back."

A smirk was threatening to appear on Price's face, and Soap noticed it. However, the younger chuckled and said, "But, this view wasn't what I was expecting. Especially after such a heart-throbbing speech."

"Then what were you expecting?" Price raised an eyebrow.

"Well…I was thinking of something romantic to go with the romantic confession," Soap muttered, his gaze lowering to Price's lips.

Price remained still as Soap's hand caressed his cheek and ran along his well-trimmed beard, lost in his fond gaze as their faces inched closer. When he could feel Soap's breath against his face, he closed his eyes and permitted the rest to happen naturally.

Price's heart skipped a beat when he felt those soft lips against his own, and slowly indulged into the passionate contact by returning the kiss. As they broke off about a few seconds later, still wrapped by fond colours of the sunset and surrounded by the best beauty nature could offer, Price took Soap's hand into his and opened his eyes, only to meet with a wide grin plastered on the other's face.

"Take it as thanks for teaching me," Soap said, a cheeky tone to his silky voice.

Price smirked. "I'd like it if you'd find the time to come to this beach more often. How about becoming an unofficial lifeguard here?"

"For you, Price, I'd rather go through the proper steps to become a legal life-saver."

"You've already saved one life before, though it wasn't really worth saving," Price chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. "By the way, why were you looking so sad before this?"

"Oh…it's funny, actually," Soap smiled, remembering his earlier foolishness when he thought it was the end of his relationship with Price. Ghost was right all along about Price liking him back. "It's a long story. Maybe some other time, eh?"

There was some silence between the two, before they heard Ghost's voice in the distance.

"Lovebug, look at those two numptys, how they're just inches away from each other and gazing into each other's eyes! If only this bloody magnificent view didn't distract us so much we would've caught 'em kissing!"

"Oh, Simon, why couldn't you give Soap a little privacy for once?"

Soap laughed and smiled at Price. "Ignore those muppets. So…are we still in the teacher/student zone, or…?"

"That depends on what you want me to teach you," Price smirked. "I'm experienced in another specific field, as I may have mentioned before…if you could learn skills so bloody fast in the sea, I wonder whether you'll be able to keep up in bed."

Soap's heart melted and the comment elicited a chuckle, especially since the older man waggled his eyebrows. Soap reached up and gave Price another gentle kiss, smiling into it when Ghost gasped and shouted:

"I bloody knew it!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **_Thanks again for reading! :) __ Leave a review!_


End file.
